Declaration #1

We shall meet on a razor's edge
And dance with joy upon it
Balance on a needle's point
And ride the speeding comet
Walk the wire strung above
A precipice of grief
And think nothing of it
And think nothing of it
For you and I have but to kiss
Have but to kiss and fly away
And nothing more have we to wish
And nothing more remains to say

Spring Sparrows

Sweet little chirpers
Feathery searchers
A flutter of sparrow wings
Seeking what spring brings

The Piccolo

In every town across the land
In country high and country low
He traveled with the ancient band
And played the piccolo

He was a young man - yes a young man
Once each evening he would stand
And play his solo - virtuoso
Stood before the band

See he stands before the band
To play his solo sweet
Yet at this very moment
Lonely eyes must meet
And between the silver tones
And from rhythmic note to note
His eyes found hers and hers found his
And his heart was smote

In every town across the land
In country high and country low
You may see the ancient band
Yet without a piccolo

I once heard a piccolo - many years ago
In a cottage lonely by the bye
I heard a baby's whimpering
Turned to happy simpering
By the lovely laughing lullaby
And between the silver tones
And from rhythmic note to note
Once more I heard the piccolo
And my heard was smote

In every town across the land
In country high and country low
Once more complete the ancient band
Has again a piccolo

He is a young man - yes a young man
Once each evening he will try
To play the solo virtuoso
That he learned from a lullaby

Tales of the Tulgy Wood

Jabberwocky

Lewis Carol sought to write a tale after the fashion of ancient fable.  In place of forgotten arcane words, he invented new arcane words - verbs, nouns, adjectives.  By their weight and shape on the ear he sought to create subconscious impressions and thus was born Jabberwocky.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Jub Jubbury

The Jabberwock whiffled through the tulgy wood, burbling as it drew near to the vorpal blade.  Suddenly it was no more, but what of the beamish boy?  And more importantly, what of the Jubjub Bird?  With your permission and indulgence I now present Jubjubbery.

Hillsomely fullmontled paneon arama
Fugwiltingly shrewdled blankillitly frumed
Intorpient astoms twilliging quilletly
Preetleing fromily autraire betrewed

Hast thou the head of the Jabberwock?
Ist thou intruminat blust?
Think thou the world your shreddle?
Think thou the terminat wust?

"Jub jub" the call echoes doldly
In the twold of the wood
The vorpal sword in its tawdly
By trumfant warrior eshrud

Jubjub on questering pinion
Jubjub with festering splayne
Seeking uffishous galumpherers
Upon which to venge for the slain

Too late my beamish cloddleson
Weighed down with the Jabberhead
For the Jubjub bird now is come
Forthwith to feddle the dead

Not frabjous now the spittled day
Unbeamish now dechortled joy
Jubjub up up away away
In his claws the frittled boy

Hillsomely fullmontled paneon arama
Fugwiltingly shrewdled blankillitly frumed
Intorpient astoms twilliging quilletly
Preetleing fromily autraire betrewed

Bandersnatchery

What fate now awaits the galumphering killer of the Jabberwock?  Carried away to the nest of the Jubjub Bird it seems that all hope is blunk in the twold of the wood.  The answer lies with the Frumious Bandersnatch, and so in conclusion, and in gratitude for your patience thusfar, I present for your enlightened edification - Banderstatchery

Doomonious freetling in slubble-filled frabe
Of unhoppled wats fillisteringly
Crawking instrubient nastriousness
Striddling tovishly far from the wabe

Frittled the boy in doomodourous nest
Blunk the depths of necrosity
Jubjub at play pauses at bay
Snuffs at the air's frumiosity

No sooner aware than bourne on the air
Jubjub up up away
Epiepitomy of Bandersnatchery
Irresistibly bound is this way

Jubjub versus the Bandersnatch
Never was seen such affray
Under green shoots in tulgy woods
The hunter doomed is to be prey

Beambereft boy trindled for joy
Jublejub slain in the grey
While Bandersnatch played throw and catch
With head of the fallen fey

My son hast slain the Jabberwock
Voice of his father was heard
While wearing skin of the Bandersnatch
I slew the Jubjub bird

Doomonious freetling in slubble-filled frabe
Of unhoppled wats fillisteringly
Crawking instrubient nastriousness
Striddling tovishly far from the wabe

(The original works of Mr Carol are of course in the public domain.)

Mortality

I stand at my lever and pull
You sit at your handle and turn
He shovels the anthracite coal
And the fires that fuel it all burn

If I were not here to pull
My lever and you did not turn
Your handle would that end it all
Would the fires continue to burn?

Yes, for out in the hall
Are others awaiting their turn
To wind and shovel and pull
And tend to the fires that burn

Secret Garden

I sit out in the open air
Oblivious to what is there
The rays of solar radiation
Gasses seeping from the foundation
The grass protected by pesticide
So that the lawn may be green outside
Still it is good to sit in the sun
In a poor facsimile of old Eden
And dream of the day when all will be new
And the things unseen will mirror the view

Urban Reclamation

Tombstones standing against the wall
Cannot mark graves at all
But serve to warn - for what its worth
That remains of the dead are beneath the turf
Now in the graveyard there's room to play ball
While the tombstones are standing against the wall